


Good Boy

by sailaway



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Boot Worship, Collars, Dominant Hux, Fluff and Smut, Hand Jobs, Leather Kink, M/M, Master/Pet, Power Play, Praise Kink, Shotgunning, Submissive Kylo Ren, Touch-Starved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-24
Updated: 2016-03-24
Packaged: 2018-05-28 20:30:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6344080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sailaway/pseuds/sailaway
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Untrained dogs need to be brought to heel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Good Boy

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by multiple discussions with multiple people... you know who you are. Thanks for the chats. My tumblr is [here!](http://apprentixe.tumblr.com)

 

 

* * *

 

 

“I had a dog as a child.” Hux's cheeks hollow as he sucks in a drag on his cigarette, holding it for a few heartbeats before exhaling leisurely. “Large, powerful; gold and black coat, feathered tail, prick ears. Just to give you a visual.” He compresses his lips around the cigarette as he coils the leash in his fist. The new leather creaks against his glove. 

“Deeply intelligent creature, fiercely loyal and obedient... once she'd been properly trained. You see, they don't just pop out of the bitch like that. Dogs have been bred to please, it's in their nature, but you can't simply let them run amok and expect unflinching compliance. You have to train them. Shape them.”

He blows a stream of gray smoke down at the man kneeling nude before him. The collar he wears is unadorned and utterly pragmatic – sturdy black leather, still stiff and new and heavy on the sensitive flesh of his neck. The buckle gleams in the dim light, snug against the base of his throat. 

“Certain breeds run more headstrong than others and require extra... correction. They need guidance to recognize their master. Are you listening, Kylo?” 

A muscle twitches in Kylo's cheek, resentment already simmering in his belly. The eyes gazing down at him are cool and curious, the pale green of well-tumbled sea glass. He'd long been forbidden from rifling through the general's thoughts – why he obeys, he cannot discern. His many attempts to analyze his body's natural, uncontrollable response to Hux have been fruitless. It frustrates and disturbs him even as he surrenders to it. He frowns before he replies. “I don't – ” 

Hux takes up the slack in the leash and tugs, cutting Kylo off mid-sentence. Incensed, Kylo opens his mouth again and is chastened by a sharper tug; he's jerked forward, catching himself on the immaculate floor of Hux's quarters with both hands.

“Speaking won't be necessary,” Hux intones calmly. “Unless I say otherwise, 'yes sir' or 'no sir' will be all. Understood?”

Kylo stares at a tiny scratch in the floor; his lips are reluctant to shape the syllables. “Yessir.”

“Excuse me?”

Kylo lifts his head, brow knitting mutinously behind the tumble of his hair. “Yes, _sir._ ”

For a moment Hux merely observes, as if weighing his sincerity, before allowing a little slack on the leash. He rests his cigarette on the glass ashtray on his desk, gracefully shrugging off his greatcoat and draping it over the back of his chair. As he sits his posture is flawless; the coat's dark silhouette gives the chair the appearance of a throne. 

“Undress me.”

Kylo's cheeks burn hot and self-conscious as he crawls forward on all fours, rising up into the V of Hux's legs. The uniform's fabric is crisp under his hands as he unclips Hux's outer belt – he receives a tsk of warning before he discards on the floor, and instead sets it on the desk – and releases the hidden hooks of the front of the jacket, sliding it off over slight shoulders. Hux's torso is lithe and lean under the standard gray tank, smooth and pale as alabaster. He always seems slightly colder than normal body temperature – or perhaps it's Kylo who runs warmer. 

“That's enough,” Hux commands, and Kylo's hands linger uncertainly on his waistband. “My gloves.”

He extends his free hand to Kylo, like a monarch expecting his ring to be kissed. Kylo is ready to pay fealty, to touch his skin, but as he reaches up Hux clicks his tongue again, eyes dropping meaningfully to Kylo's mouth.

With his palms on Hux's thighs and his face flushed scarlet, Kylo tentatively bites one finger of the glove. “Don't you dare mar the leather,” Hux warns softly. Kylo rolls his lips over his teeth and carefully tugs each fingertip loose, depositing the glove on the desk by mouth before repeating the process with the second one. 

As Hux bends and reaches between Kylo's legs Kylo's hips stutter instantly forward into his waiting grip, clutching the smooth fabric of his trousers. But it's only seconds, painfully short and unsatisfying, before Hux releases him; he smirks almost fondly, grazing his thumb gently over Kylo's bottom lip. Kylo leans into it but is denied any further contact as Hux turns to his desk, nudging him away with one knee.

He sinks down onto his heels, bemusement piercing through the haze of desire as Hux picks up his datapad, casually swiping through whatever it is that's so incredibly important he must abandon Kylo and attend to it immediately. As he crosses one leg over the other the toe of his boot grazes Kylo's chest; Kylo's body follows the movement despite himself, but Hux takes no notice. The lights are so low his sleek hair shines deeper copper than usual, his fingers slim and elegant around the dwindling cigarette. Fingers that are capable of both surprising strength, or a masterful caress.

Kylo's cock twitches, bobbing heavy between his naked thighs, and he fights the urge to squirm. He swallows; licks his bottom lip. His very skin is too tight, flushing with the overwhelming _need_ to touch and be touched. He hates how desperate he is for Hux's acknowledgment and he concentrates, sneaking a quick, subtle press into his mind. _This isn't even the correct requisition form, how difficult can it possibly be –_

Hux's keen eyes slide to him past the datapad. “Not only is that terribly rude but I've expressly forbidden it.” His brows draw together in a kind of bored disapproval. 

He takes a last lazy drag before stubbing his cigarette out and he grabs Kylo's chin roughly, rolling the skin over the jawbone. Even this unkind grasp is better than nothing and as Hux dips his head Kylo surges forward, impatient to taste that soft mouth. But Hux holds him deliberately in place, and instead of a kiss he blows the smoke out between Kylo's parted lips. “You disappoint me.” 

Kylo's eyes water as he sputters, bowing his head when he can't hold back the cough anymore. As he tries to catch his breath Hux threads his fingers lightly through Kylo's hair, not quite touching his scalp.

“You'll wait,” comes his unruffled voice, “Until I'm good and ready.” 

The only sounds are the tapping on the datapad. Then a passing footstep in the corridor; the occasional hum of the environmental controls circulating fresh, warm air. The muted “new message” chirp of the pad. The click of the leash clip on the collar whenever Kylo moves more than an inch or two. He's worn it only 48 hours and although he'd balked at it at first, its weight has been strangely reassuring, a constant reminding touch concealed under the high neck of his tunic. 

Kylo finds himself inexplicably drawn to the shine of Hux's boot, just about eye level. Inspiration seizes him and he leans forward, monitoring the wearer carefully for any response, and mouths the glossy toe. The smooth vamp of the boot tastes very slightly of leather oil, his kiss as passionate as any lover's as he keeps his watchful gaze fixed intently on Hux... who doesn't seem to be reacting. Kylo licks a long, exaggerated stripe up the instep, tonguing the seam. 

Hux doesn't so much as move his foot away. 

Now Kylo's cheeks flush but with embarrassment and frustration, not the hoped for pleasure, and he folds sullenly back in on himself. 

As the heat in his face eventually fades his knees begin to ache on the hard floor, and he shifts his weight to one side. This is equally uncomfortable so he crosses his legs instead, leaning against the desk so his spine and the leg of it align. He exhales slowly and attempts to retreat into that headspace he accesses for meditation. Yet he remains distracted by the micro-expressions on Hux's face; a slight twist of the lips here, a narrowing of the eyes there. They take on a faint blueish tone from the screen's dull glow; like jade, crystal clear and luminous. His lashes are almost translucent, fluttering as his gaze flicks across the screen. 

It's not enough to merely have Hux's attention. A reprimand, a terse argument on the bridge, a sniping comment or cold retort... all have become far inferior to other forms of interaction Kylo's been introduced to lately. Those eyes must turn on him with pleasure, with appreciation; those full lips must shape words of praise, droplets of rain on a parched desert plant. Once experienced, nothing less will do.

Kylo lets his eyes close as his brain waves settle into a more peaceful frequency. The tapping on the pad becomes a sort of soothing white noise, audible proof of his general's presence. He's not even slightly sleepy, but he can sense his own heart-rate ebbing into a calmer rhythm, his hands linked loosely in his lap. The cycled air is a degree or two warmer than he remembers; Hux has altered the temperature for him. 

Kylo hadn't realize he'd drifted from meditation to dozing until he's jarred awake by the click of the datapad being switched off. He blinks away grogginess, rolling the stiffness from his back as two slim hands frame his face, turning it up. 

“Good boy,” Hux murmurs fondly, and Kylo's heart soars up into his throat, lodging somewhere behind the collar's buckle. 

Hux finally kisses him, firm and sure, and Kylo all but melts into the long awaited touch, his own hands coming up to cover Hux's. Their fingers interlace and Hux pulls him up to straddle his lap, Kylo's temple resting almost drowsily on Hux's shoulder as their bodies slot neatly together. Kylo may be much broader yet Hux doesn't seem at all perturbed by the weight. Hux can hold him. 

Hux's hand snakes in between them and finds a confident grip on Kylo's cock. It springs back to life in his nimble fingers and Kylo finds himself panting uninhibited into the curve of Hux's neck, pressing shaky, reverent kisses on the delicate skin. With each skilled stroke he can almost believe the galaxy's focus has narrowed into this one space, every star condensed behind his eyes as he hides his face in the hollow of Hux's collarbone. Hux turns his head to capture his lips, free hand sliding into his hair as if to pull him deeper into drowning. Or perhaps to save him from it.

Kylo gasps his climax into Hux's mouth, the tiniest of cries peaking in his throat as he spills into that steady hand. Boneless now, he lets his head fall forward again onto Hux's shoulder, breathing in his cool, freshly-laundered scent. He wonders vaguely if it's aftershave, or a result of the dry-cleaning. He concludes it absolutely does not matter. 

Without looking up he can hear the snick and roll of the desk drawer, the whisper of a tissue as Hux frees his hand and cleans it. He strokes Kylo's hair idly with one hand, the other thumbing small circles on his lower back. 

“It's late.” Hux's voice is matter-of-fact; maybe it's wishful thinking but Kylo imagines there's a trace of affection there, as well. Kylo uncoils his limbs reluctantly and is deposited gently on the floor as Hux reaches for his crumpled jacket to shake out the wrinkles. “Unlike some, I have a schedule to keep to.” 

He's never been invited to stay. Kylo's normal operating procedure is to take, to demand; but with Hux it feels too bold to even ask. The bed is standard issue, nearly identical to his own, yet its occupant would make up that sublime difference. The sheets are surely clean and cool; Hux would be a light sleeper, he thinks. His hair will be mussed in the morning.

Hux follows his gaze, then tips Kylo's chin up with one knuckle. For half a second he seems to be considering it. 

“Maybe next time.” He hooks a finger under Kylo's collar and smiles. “If you're very, very good.”

 

 

* * *

 

 


End file.
